Preparing for this move has required countless emails and sheets of paper, but there are certain steps I expected to take that I’ll be skipping. Compared to signing a lease in the United States, which I’ve done seven times in the past decade, there were some noticeable differences in the process, both good and bad.

Good: Movers
Moving companies here are remarkably fast and go to great pains to make sure neither your items or the apartment are damaged. They remove their shoes, of course, when coming inside but also lay down tarps and even cover parts of the walls. Our movers in the U.S. tracked dirt everywhere, banged into walls and, um, used my toilet. Several times. Ew.

Good: Building Features
While every apartment is different, I’ve never felt less like a renter than here in Tokyo. What do I mean? Management is attentive and responsive in keeping up the buildings, which are very secure and safe. We’ve had our pipes and smoke detectors checked regularly at no charge and they were quick to repair a broken washer/dryer. Other little items I’m grateful for are video cameras at the main entrance, locked parcel boxes so packages can be left when I’m not here and the most meticulously cleaned garbage and bike rooms I’ve ever seen.

Good/Bad: Cleaning
All you need to do is vacuum before moving out of your current unit, which is good. The management company then has the apartment professionally cleaned and restored, repairing any and all damage, including wallpaper. This means walking into an apartment that is in pretty spectacular condition. However, the cost of that fabulous cleaning is footed by the former tenant and can be $500 or more (assuming there are no major damages). Bad.

Bad: Bank Transfers
How you pay for many moving expenses, such as agent fees or deposits. They have to be done at the bank or through an ATM instead of writing and check and usually only Monday through Friday. Before 2 p.m. Not fun.

Bad: Bulky Waste Removal
Don’t worry, this isn’t about to get gross. In Japan, large trash is called sodai gomi, or “bulky waste.” This includes obvious items like appliances and furniture, but also small electronics, rugs, old luggage, etc. These items must be hauled away by the city. Now, don’t get me wrong, recycling is a good thing and I ultimately feel better about having these items hauled away than throwing them in a dumpster. But the process is less than fun. You have to complete an itemized form online (in Japanese, typically) and schedule an appointment for pickup, which can take a couple of weeks. THEN you have to go to the convenience store and buy a certain number of tickets/stickers to place on the items. These stickers can really add up, which means paying a good chunk of money to have items hauled away. I think we paid around $50 for our couch. And if you leave your items in the wrong place (as we did), that can lead to more fun.

I spent last night going through the last cupboard or two to make sure we didn’t need to toss anything else and then finished up the last of the laundry. Now I’m sitting in the new, empty unit waiting for our belongings to arrive and I couldn’t be more excited.

Keep your fingers crossed for my sanity and I’ll share another update once everything is all set up.

We’re moving out of our first Tokyo home in just over a week, and let’s just say the feelings have started. I was lying in bed awake last night and thinking about all that this little apartment has meant to us.

I remember when we first walked up to the building, I just got a feeling. Once we saw the inside, I knew it was meant to be ours. Sure, the space did seem immediately swallowed up by all our things. And it took me months to finally find the best arrangement to optimize the space we had. But it’s never felt cold, or too dark or lonely.

I haven’t lived in any house or apartment since my childhood home for more than a few years, but I quickly become sentimental about these temporary ones. As the days wind down, I start to wonder who will set up here next. Will they appreciate it as much as us? Will they damage it? Will it be a safe haven for them, as it was for us, when the outside world was just a little too crowded and loud?

I’ve been scared in this apartment. I’ve been homesick and sad. But I also learned how to be more brave. I learned everything from what it meant to work at my marriage to how to do a burpee in a confined space without breaking anything. I spent hours deciphering the worst of Google’s translations to pay bills, make doctor’s appointments and order pizza between FaceTime sessions with loved ones back in the states.

Every home I’ve had has changed me a bit and pushed me forward. While I’ll probably be more than a little weepy about leaving this apartment, I know the chapter we spent here is among the most important of mine and Craig’s journey thus far, and for that reason, it will always have a special place in my heart.

The holiday season is officially underway, and I’m trying to put together where this year went. I did my first bit of decorating today, and while I can’t fit much in our apartment, it’s nice to have some Christmas cheer sprinkled around. Now if only my shopping list was finalized . . .

My happy sights for the week kick off with that magical bowl of shaved noodles you see above. They’ve become an addiction I’m trying to limit to once a week. Is it Sunday yet?

Adorable sake cups from Morioka.

We found some western-style sushi in Marunouchi this week. I know it’s not “authentic,” but I sure do miss it sometimes.

Stockings hung by the bathroom with care.

The little Christmas tree that could. Our first tree in two years. Isn’t it cute?!

A key left for Santa. At least I didn’t hang it on the closet where I know Craig hides presents.

Today is when this week really kicks into high gear. My best girlfriend is getting married this weekend and the festivities begin tonight with her bachelorette party. I cannot wait to celebrate with her and the rest of the ladies coming tonight.

I’ve loved being home these past five days and am looking forward to spending more time with family and friends and welcoming my beautiful pregnant sister to town tomorrow. Check out my new baubles for the wedding! More happy sights to come.

My travel journal. Post coming soon.

Check out those munchkins! I loved that Minnie Mouse costume.

Not a skyscraper in sight.

Now THIS is a taco plate. That said, I barely ate half of it.

Reminiscing about the college days at MSU, which has the most gorgeous campus.

I’ve talked more than once on this blog about the transition we went through to be able to now say Japan is home. But does where you grew up ever stop being home? Can we always have more than one home?

When my father and I were driving back from the airport on Friday, he said something that stuck with me. “I suppose this was never really your home, but I think home is always where your parents are.”

I grew up in the house in the picture above in a suburb of Detroit. The house my parents are in now was built right after I finished high school near Flint, where my family has a business. I’ve stayed there for a couple of summers between adventures, but never really had “my room.” They might disagree, however, considering how many tubs of childhood memories like dance costumes and stuffed animals remain in the basement. I’ve always referred to it as my parents’ house, but I can’t deny how quickly I exhale when I get there. I remember the times I would sob before I had to get on the train back to Chicago, where a less-than-glamorous post-collegiate life waited for me. It’s a place I’ve always felt comfortable — even if the lack of city noises out in the country often makes me more than a little paranoid.

I had a great childhood growing up in Michigan. I lived in a very safe, family friendly city with plenty of friends and activities to keep me busy, but I felt restless for as long as I can remember. From the time I was in middle school, I always knew I was meant to go explore and call other cities home. Since the move to Japan, we’ve referred to trips back to the U.S. as “going back to the states,” but I don’t think I’ll still hesitate about calling Michigan home any further, because I wouldn’t be who I am if I didn’t start here.

Yes, home is where we send our mail, where our bed is and where we have our day-to-day lives, but home is also the place that reconnects us to where we’ve been and where those we cherish most are waiting for us.

We’ve had amazing time with Craig’s mom here so far. She’s been a trooper, trying a variety of foods she’d never had before and embracing chopsticks, walking on the left side of the sidewalk and dashing to the Metro.

The three of us are hopping on a plane to Okinawa tomorrow, and I cannot wait to share some sights from my first visit to the island. For now, enjoy this selection from the past week, starting with the above pic from the 34th Annual Asakusa Samba Carnival, which drew 5,000 performers in spite of the rain.

I’ve begun the final preparations for my parents’ arrival NEXT WEEK and I couldn’t be more excited. I just hope the jet lag doesn’t hit them too hard, because I have a lot planned for their trip. Family vacations were always pretty action packed when I was growing up — we were up before the sun for road trips and to get the most out of our time together. I know they’ll have a great time.

My web tacks for the week include some amazing technological and food trends here in Japan. Enjoy!

Now that a year has gone by, I dare say I’ve come to appreciate my miniature kitchen. Would I take a larger one if offered? Sure. But I can’t deny the positive effects it has had. Back in the U.S., where we had a kitchen probably four times this size at least, we were usually guilty of throwing food away each week — not something to be proud of at all. Of course, I still get frustrated when I cook in our kitchen from time to time, but some reorganization and strategizing have turned what used to be expletive-filled battles into more of a choreographed dance.

Look for new “Small Kitchen Missions” coming soon, but it the meantime, here are the tips that have helped me embrace my kitchen instead of always running for takeout. I think they can help anyone, no matter the size of your space:

Plan ahead. Since space for storage is limited, I make sure to always go shopping with a list to avoid impulse purchases. I do my best to plan meals in advance to avoid picking up items we don’t have room for. This doesn’t mean adding candy or the occasional imported American treat to the cart doesn’t happen — I am human, hehe.

Stay organized. I’ve said before getting this apartment organized has been like solving a puzzle over and over again, but it’s done wonders for my cleaning habits. Having a place for everything has made all the difference in the world.

Invest in storage. Reducing counter clutter is key when you have limited space. I love removing bulk or packaged items from their original containers and storing them in clear, air-tight ones that can be stacked. Everything is easy to spot and clean up.

Clean as you go. When I’m cooking, I’m constantly hopping between the stove, the recycling bin, the cupboards and sink. Putting items away after using them keeps me from messing a recipe up, makes less work later and, most importantly, frees up more room.

Prep ingredients first. I used to gather all my ingredients at once for a recipe but when you have about two square feet of counter space, that isn’t practical once you had mixing bowls or appliances. Now I premix marinades, sauce blends and chopped veggies so they’re ready to go.

Move things up. I so wish I could hang more things in this apartment, but housing regulations don’t allow it, at least not in our building (holes + earthquakes = bad). But I’ve bought shelving that is installed with tension rods, adhesive wall hooks and a tall cabinet that allow me to get more items off the counter for some breathing room.

Think inside the pot. A lot of the recipes I’ve shown here have been one-pot wonders. I have three burners, but more than two pots and things get way too crowded. A lot of Asian kitchens have only two. Beyond stews and soups, you could feasibly boil potatoes in a pot, remove them to brown meat and then add the ingredients for a sauce to the same pot afterward. Mash the potatoes while the meat browns and cook the sauce while the meat rests and boom. Dinner.

Buy versatile kitchenware. When it’s time to start investing in pots, pans or cookware, choose items that can do double duty to avoid lots of dishes piling up. Glass bakeware that can double as storage or a skillet that can also go in the oven.

Avoid too many cooks. I miss cooking with Craig — he was my star pupil/sous chef back in Michigan — but when there isn’t much room for one person, two can become overwhelming fast. I typically do the cooking and he handles all cleanup. Happy wife, happy life.

Create extra counter space. Much of cooking in a tiny space is a balancing act. When I said I had two square feet of actual working surface, I wasn’t kidding. I’ve had to get creative, putting a large wooden cutting board over the sink and then putting our dish drying wrack on the stovetop once it cooled. I’ve also been known to drag over chairs to pile things on. A rolling cart with a flat top is another great option.

I was talking with my sister about food (this happens a lot), and we got on the topic of what items Craig and I keep in the house as staples and indulgences. It never ceases to amuse those back home what items we’ve turned to for both a literal and psychological taste of the familiar. Nutella provides both of these benefits.

I never underestimated the power of food before (blasphemous!) and I certainly don’t now.

When I first started grocery shopping in Japan, back during our temporary apartment stay, I was almost reduced to tears on my initial outings to both Japanese and international markets. I love to cook and made the majority of our weekly meals back in Michigan, but I was suddenly overwhelmed by the new sights, smells and, of course, packaging I couldn’t read. Everything I thought I knew about food I started to question because I wasn’t able to (both out of fear and ability) ask for help. It was such a bizarre experience for someone who secretly wishes she could be a competitive eater for a living.

Now that we’ve been here an astonishing eight-and-a-half months, I’ve become very comfortable shopping around town and have learned to conquer my kitchen. But there are certain foods that have become permanent pantry fixtures in our home that we barely ever purchased before, like Pringles (the flavors they have here . . . oh my goodness), Dijon mustard, Kit-Kats (especially green tea) and Ritz Crackers. Last week, I dove for some of that Italian salad dressing mix I grew up on.

And it’s not just food.

While prepping for the move, I had my most expensive Target trip on record, loading up on all the items that kept our house running and our bodies clean and healthy. I became fixated on the word “our” as I packed the cart with “our” toothpaste, “our” laundry detergent” and hell, even “our” toilet cleaner. Why? Because that’s the one we’ve used for years and the last thing I want to do was find replacements for the items I can collect from a store without thinking twice. I even ordered a six-month supply of our favorite hand soap — I’m so not kidding.

It may sound silly, but it was just another aspect of “our” life I was trying to put into boxes and send around the world. I can’t even explain the feeling of ease that came over me when those boxes finally arrived at our new place and I could fill our shelves with all these familiar items.

As I’ve been preparing to head back to the states in December, I’ve been making lists of what to stock up on during the visit, and it’s not as long as I’d imagined. Sure, I will bring back plenty of my preferred deodorant (FACT: Westerners are too sweaty for the Japanese stuff). And I can’t wait to buy a new four-piece sheet set, but I won’t be hoarding soap and dryer sheets through TSA.

As our in-house stock has dwindled, I’ve done what a frazzled me thought impossible — I’ve found new things to replace them with. New things to complete our new home. And it really feels like “ours.”